Black Summer
by Cat Riddle
Summary: Sirius has just returned from his first year at Hogwarts. He now has to deal with his parents' reactions to him being sorted into Gryffindor.


Summary: It's the summer after Sirius's first year at Hogwarts. He deals with his family's reaction to him being sorted into Gryffindor. Probably will be a few chapters long. I do intend to actually finish this one, whether or not someone reads it, though if you do read it, I really love to get reviews. Please read and review!  
  
"Which one's your mum, Sirius?" James asked him as Hogwarts students spilled out of the red steam engine and on to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. "Or is she on the other side?"  
  
"No," Sirius winced when he saw her. "No, there she is."  
  
Mrs. Black was standing with her loyal house elf, Kreacher, looking disgustedly over the milling students. She was dressed in a stiff black velvet dress, despite the fact that it was June, and a black cloak was fastened by a finely polished silver brooch that bore the Black family crest. Her dark hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and her hat was made from only the finest silk on the market, complete with a blood red feather. Sirius couldn't help but grimace the moment he saw her.  
  
His best friend, James Potter, took one look at Mrs. Black, raised an eyebrow, and murmured, "Good Luck, mate. Look's like you'll need it."  
  
"See you guys in September," Remus called as he went over to join his two beaming parents on the other side of the platform. Peter had been picked up by his rather formidable mother the moment he stepped off the train. James spotted his own parents and bade Sirius goodbye, promising to write as much as possible.  
  
I suppose there's nothing else for it, Sirius thought. He took a deep breath, and made his way through other students to his mother, dragging his hefty trunk behind him.  
  
"Hello, Mother," he said in a very forced pleasant voice. Mrs. Black had no greeting for him, only a disdainful look in his direction as if he were a decapitated mouse the cat had left on the doorstep. She simply beckoned for Kreacher to follow her, then turned brusquely and walked through the barrier on to Platform Nine. Sirius followed, though more slowly as he was still carrying his school trunk.  
  
When they had reached a shiny, black car, with a plate attached to the side that read, "Ministry of Magic," Mrs. Black opened the door and hissed, "Get in," to her eldest son.  
  
During their short drive to Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, Mrs. Black did not say a single word. Kreacher sat noiselessly in the backseat, and Sirius stared at his shoes, willing himself not to be afraid. The car finally stopped moving, and Kreacher practically flew out of it to open the door for his mistress.   
  
When the door shut behind Sirius, it seemed to resound with a deafening, foreboding smack that made him sick to his stomach. He waited for the inevitable...  
  
"You will go to your room. You will not make noise. You will remain in your room until your father and I decide what punishment is best for a blood-traitor in our own home. Do not come down for dinner. Get out of my sight."  
  
She had said it all in a frighteningly calm voice, which was what disturbed Sirius the most. Normally when his mother was angry, she screamed and yelled longer that was almost humanly possible. Sirius, for one of the few times in his life, did as he was told, and walked up the stairs to his room.  
  
He had not written his family to inform them what house he had been sorted into, expecting this kind of reaction from them. Sirius had not intended to tell them at all, but of course they had found out. His cousin Bellatrix, who was a year ahead of him at Hogwarts, and in the respectable house of Slytherin had written most of the family straight away. Sirius expected to receive a howler, or even his father showing up to take him straight home, but he had received nothing, except for a short note at Christmas telling him that he shouldn't bother coming home for the holidays, including Easter (which was just fine as far as Sirius was concerned, and he had been disappointed on not getting a similar message about the summer).  
  
Sirius passed Regulus, who had been eavesdropping on the top of the stairs. His brother, two years his junior, was seemingly filled with glee.  
  
"Sirius is in trouble, Sirius is in trouble," he said in a sing-song voice, and then gave a little cackle. "You're gonna get it this time!"  
  
He aimed a kick at Regulus who easily dodged it, grinning evilly at his older brother. "You'd better watch your step, or I'll tell Mum!"  
  
Sirius let out a frustrated sigh and then continued up the stairs until he had reached his room. He dumped his trunk at the foot of his bed, and then turned around to examine the room around him. It was his only sanctuary in the Black household, then only part of the house that he felt he actually belonged in. The only part of the house that welcomed him.  
  
He walked over to the chest that he normally kept his quidditch action figures, comic books, various treats, and several different quidditch magazines, but found that a heavy iron lock had been put on it. He turned to his bookshelf, hoping to forget about his family problems for an hour or so while he read one of his favorite novels, but they had all been replaced with his parents' book collection, containing such titles as, "What it Means to be a Pureblood," and "Nature's Nobility: A Wizard Genealogy." Sirius wondered if there was any chance at all he could open his window and let some fresh air into his room, but the window had been magically sealed. The dark-haired boy sighed and collapsed onto his bed...  
  
James, Remus, and Peter were on the quidditch pitch, laughing heartily and running about, tossing a few red quaffles to one and other. Sirius was positively overjoyed to see his friends, and he ran over to them as quickly as he could.  
  
"James! Remus! Peter! I'm so glad to see you! Can I play?" he asked breathlessly.  
  
All three boys turned around and looked at him in disgust.  
  
"Get away from us, Slytherin!" James spat at him. Sirius almost thought that he was joking, but something about the look in his best friend's eyes told him that James meant exactly what he had said.  
  
Sirius was taken aback. "James, what are you talking about? I'm in Gryffindor, you know that! Everybody knows that!"  
  
James snorted at him, "Yeah right, Black. Get lost, will you! You're ruining our game."  
  
"But James!" Sirius said desperately. He didn't understand why his friends were being so mean to him. "It's me, guys! Remus? Peter?" he tried hopefully, but the other two gave him the same look that James was. "It's me Sirius! We-we put dungbombs in Filch's closet last year, remember?"  
  
"As I remember, you were the one who turned us in for that," Remus growled.   
  
"Get out of here, Slytherin," hissed Peter.  
  
"Yeah, go hang out with some of your slimy Slytherin friends!" James yelled at him, and then, to Sirius's great surprise, he hurled one of the quaffles at him, hitting Sirius dead-on in the chest.  
  
Sirius awoke, feeling very confused and lost. It had all been a dream, of course, hadn't it? He shook his head to clear it. He was a Gryffindor. His friends would never really say things like that to him. Besides, if he had really been sorted into Slytherin, then all of the interesting things to do in his room would not be off limits to him, he would be able to have dinner, and he would not have a terrible sense of dread every time he thought about the confrontation he would eventually have with his parents. Despite the grim outlook of the rest of the summer, Sirius knew in his heart that he was glad to be in Gryffindor with his parents furious at him, than be in Slytherin without his friends.  
  
Sirius could smell dinner being prepared downstairs, and his stomach chose to give a loud rumble, and Sirius realized just how hungry he really was. He sat up and opened up his school trunk, which was luckily still accessible. He had bought a bag of Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans on the school train that he had not finished. It was hardly a meal, but it was the best he could hope for. He tried keep his attention on picking out the flavors that he liked, and the method worked for a while, until all that was left in the bag were the mysteriously colored beans that Sirius refused to touch.  
  
There was no clock in his room, but he could guess if Kreacher was preparing dinner that it was about six o'clock. His father got home every evening at seven on the dot, no matter where his business trips took him. Mr. Black was just that punctual. That meant that Sirius had about an hour to pass before his father arrived home and inflicted whatever punishment his parents saw fit.  
  
He drew a piece of parchment, a fine quill, and a bottle of ink out of his trunk, and sat down at his desk. He wrote letters to his friends, hoping that he would be able to send them at some point, though he didn't see how.  
  
Dear James,  
  
Remember how I told you my parents hated Gryffindors, and you didn't believe me and you told me I was overreacting. I think I was under reacting. My mother's barely said a word to me since I got home, and she likes to yell. I'm just waiting for her to explode any second-it's absolutely terrifying. Remember when you said that I might be able to stay at your house for part of the summer? As soon as you find out, send me an owl. I'm not sure how long I'll survive here.  
  
Sirius  
  
He had stopped for a moment while writing the letter, thinking that he might tell James about his dream. But the images in his mind were still to fresh for him to laugh about, so he put his letter to James aside to let the ink dry, and pulled another piece of parchment towards himself.  
  
Dear Remus,  
  
Good luck with the full moon tonight, even though you won't get this until it's over. James and I weren't joking about having a birthday party for you in a few weeks, you know, so keep that week open. My parents are furious at me for being sorted into Gryffindor-well, actually they haven't talked to me about it yet, but I know they're furious. I hope you won't feel too awful tomorrow. Write back soon.  
  
Sirius  
  
He had just begun to write the words "Dear Peter," on the third piece of parchment when he heard the front door slam loudly downstairs, and then his mother and brother's footsteps scurrying towards the foyer. His father had arrived home. 


End file.
